


Song and Dance

by Saral_Hylor



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Dysfunctional Relationships, M/M, Mild Domestic Violence, On again/off again relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-15 08:59:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1299130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saral_Hylor/pseuds/Saral_Hylor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They love each other. But they're terrible at it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Song and Dance

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [quandong_crumble](http://archiveofourown.org/users/quandong_crumble/pseuds/quandong_crumble) for the beta work. Luffles you so much!  
> Headcanon in regards to Tony and smoking stolen from quandong as well. From this fic: [Belle Principesse](http://archiveofourown.org/works/846503)
> 
> Thanks to [jujitsuelf](http://archiveofourown.org/users/jujitsuelf/pseuds/jujitsuelf) for the read through. 
> 
> I tagged domestic violence more as a precaution. (spoiler-ish)Explanation in end notes if you wish to know more before reading.

It doesn’t start like this.

Tony’s hands fisted in his shirt, body pressed against his, pushing him back against the wall. Tony’s mouth fitted against his, tasting like whiskey and menthol cigarettes. Tony’s thigh pushed between his legs and his hands trying to remap every inch of Tony’s body. Trying to remember it all again, to have something to hold on to once Tony’s gone again.

It never starts like that. It starts with a text message, an “ _I miss you”_ , and then a late night phone call, voices muffled against pillows and whispering dirty words that only quantify the physical ache of being apart. It starts with a lingering look, shoulders bumping as they pass in the hall, and it’s only a matter of time before it leads to being brave enough to tangle fingers together again. It starts with coffee with mutual friends, with their long suffering sighs and “ _just get back together again”,_  with them staying behind in awkward silence after everyone else has gone and the looks that start to linger too long.

 

It doesn’t end like this.

Tony’s voice, biting and sarcastic, defensive and sharp. His own words thrown violently at Tony, not being able to stop even when he can see the pain in those eyes. Tony’s hand knocking his away, the sharp dig of an elbow trying to drive him away. The slamming of a door and the unnatural silence of the party sounding the end again.

It never ends like that. It ends with silent phones, empty inboxes and lonely nights. It ends in avoiding each other, quick get aways when the other is coming. It ends with mutual friends refusing to choose sides and telling them both that they need to stop doing whatever it is they are doing. It ends in bruised knuckles and torn punching bags. It ends in empty bottles and throwing up in the morning.

It doesn’t end like this. It doesn’t end at all.

It just circles back and starts again.

 

It starts again with Tony’s nervous smile from across the room at a party. It starts again with those brown eyes not guarded well enough, and the longing there plain to see. It starts again with the curling of his lips in return. It starts again with a second, third, fourth, tenth, sixteenth, chance. It starts again with Tony’s lips against his and hands clinging desperately with all the false promises of never letting go.

 

It ends again in the turning down of music, the awkward silence of people not wanting to witness what is happening but not being able to look away. It ends like a car crash. It ends with his fist connecting with Tony’s jaw when words weren’t working anymore. It ends with Tony spitting blood into his hand and then walking away.

It ends with an unfamiliar voice asking “What’s their deal? This seems to happen every weekend. One day you can’t separate them with a crowbar, the next they’re fighting again.”

It’s Clint’s all too familiar voice that replies, and that feels like another nail in the coffin, but he can’t walk away, can’t get far enough away, because part of him needs to hear it, to focus on something other than the memory of the wounded look that flashed across Tony’s face before he left.

“They’re  _that_  couple.”

“What? That couple that has to be the focal point?”

“No, that couple who couldn’t love each other more, but can never get it right. They’ve been like this since high school. You might not believe it, but Rogers used to be a third the size he is now, and Stark used to tease him all the time, but that never made Steve stay away. It seemed like fighting was their way of showing affection.”

“Rogers? Really? Wow, guess puberty was kind to him.”

“I reckon it was senior year, no, maybe junior, hey, Tash, was it junior year when Steve, you know?”

“End of summer holidays right before senior year. Last party of the summer.”

“How the hell does she even know what you’re asking?”

“We share a brain, kinda like a hive mind, but just the two of us. She’s totally the dominant one, I’m the pretty one. Anyway, off topic. Right, just before senior year started, Steve was still tiny, Tony still loved that about him, and something went wrong. None of us knew what it was at first. School started a few days later and Steve looked like he was in pain all the time and Tony would pretty much go white and run the opposite direction whenever he saw him,”

“What happened?”

“I only heard it from Bucky, later on, and Tasha talked to us about it too, mostly threatening me and Bucky not to go lynching Tony, since it wasn’t his fault.”

“Just get on with it Clint.”

“Yeah, well, guess most people know by now. Steve, the idiot that he is, got drunk at the party and decided that he wanted Tony to fuck him. I’m pretty sure that Tony was even more drunk, and well, Steve had almost no idea what he was doing. Long story short, Steve hurt himself, Tony freaked out and blamed himself for the whole thing.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, it makes everyone wince. He was an idiot. And it sparked the biggest high school avoidance episode you’ve ever seen. I don’t know what happened, but the beginning of this year at college, it all stopped. And instead you get what we have here. I think Tony still has a lot of guilt. He’s one of those guys who probably can’t even remember his first time, but you can bet he’d never have wanted Steve’s to be so awful. So, right from the start they were bad for each other, but you can just see it.”

“See what?”

“They’re more miserable without each other. They break up and Tony goes on a bender and Steve destroys punching bags like they’re made of paper. It’s more tragic than Romeo and fucking Juliet. It’s fucked up beyond Shakespearian proportions.”

It ends when he can’t listen anymore and he runs back towards home instead.

 

It started like this.

A bedroom lit only by a bedside lamp, floor vibrating from the music of the party downstairs. It started with Tony finally looking at him the way he wanted him to. The heady buzz of alcohol let him kiss Tony without having to think about it. It started with Tony collapsing back on the bed and watching him kick his shoes, socks and pants off. It started with Tony’s hands touching him, holding him, lips pushing against his. It started with impatience and inexperience and wanting, straddling Tony’s lap and trying to push him inside.

 

It ended with his pained wince, the strangled noise that escaped unbidden from his mouth. It ended with Tony pushing him away, eyes panicked and freaking out at his pain. It ended with Tony across the other side of the room, apologising again and again and not hearing him beg for him to stay.

 

It starts again like this.

A week after he punched Tony, standing awkwardly in the doorway of Tony’s dorm room, wanting so desperately just to hug him.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Think we’re a bit beyond apologies, don’t you think?”

“I shouldn’t have hit you.”

“I’m over it, Steve, see, bruise is gone, it’s all good.”

“Tony, I didn’t mean to hurt you, I lo–”

“Don’t say it. Don’t say that. You can’t say that. We don’t say that, remember?”

He remembers. It hurts, but he knows that the way Tony tugs him into the room and kisses him is his own way of saying he loves him too, and that it terrifies him.

It starts again with ignored apologies and interrupted confessions of love.

 

It ends again like this.

“For fucks sake Steve, will you stop acting like the victim here?”

“Will you stop treating me like one then!”

“I don’t. I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

It ends in Tony’s car, and he isn’t even sure what brought it on this time. He never is. Somehow they just always seem to say the wrong things at the wrong times, and it ends like that.

“You’ve been acting like you’re the bad guy ever since we started this. You really don’t think I can’t see the guilt? I don’t get it Tony, it wasn’t you! It was me. I was stupid, and did everything wrong, and will you stop blaming yourself for that.”

“It is my fault. I was the one who was supposed to know what they were doing. I’m no good for you Steve. I never have been, and I never will be. You were supposed to have me out of your system by now!”

“You want me to leave? You really want that? For good this time?”

“Yes.”

It should have ended there. It doesn’t. It should have ended with Tony sounding lost behind all the fake anger. It should have ended with Tony taking back his last word. It should have ended with him clinging to Tony and begging him to change his mind. It doesn’t end like that. None of that happens. Instead it ends with the undoing of a seatbelt, the slamming of a car door. It ends with the rev of an engine and the disappearing tail lights.

Only it doesn’t end there. It ends an hour and three miles later. It ends with his thumb hovering over Tony’s name on the screen of his phone. It ends with the call trying to connect, because he has to hear Tony’s voice again, has to tell him that he’s not going to let go that easily. It ends with a screech of tyres, the blinding flash of headlights. With pain rolling through his body and the bitumen too hard beneath him. With Tony’s voice growing frantic over the phone where it lay just out of reach the screen shattered but still working. 

It ends in blackness. 

 

It starts with beeping and a grip so tight on his hand that his fingers are going to sleep. It starts with Tony’s face coming into focus, his eyes red and looking like he’s been crying. That doesn’t make sense, because he doesn’t think he’s ever seen Tony cry before. It starts with a shaky smile and Tony kissing his knuckles over and over again. It starts with Tony’s voice, ragged and desperate, apologies tangled amongst other words. 

“You stupid fucking idiot, Steve, I’m so sorry. I thought I lost you. I can’t lose you, not for good, not like this, no, nope, no way. You’re not allowed to die. Not without giving me another chance.” 

It starts again like that, in a hospital room, with Tony asking – telling – him to give him another chance. It starts again like that, with Tony’s face twisting between pain and guilt and relieved smiles, with their hands tangled together and Tony’s lips bumping against his knuckles. 

 

It ends like this. 

**Author's Note:**

> Domestic violence tag - Steve punches Tony once during a break up, but neither of them consider it to be abuse.


End file.
